Remain
by Wicked R
Summary: after the penultimate episode of season 2, NipTuck, Christian’s spending his time at Gina’s hospital bed for the last days of her life. Told in first person, Liz’s point of view. Warning: depressing!


Carry On Asshole  
Author: Wicked R

**Disclaimers**: characters and the universe belongs to FX.

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Rating: NC 17. Depressing, as you can see from the summary.

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Genre: angst, missing scene

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Summary/Set: after the penultimate episode of season 2, Nip/Tuck, Christian's spending his time at Gina's hospital bed for the last days of her life. Told in first person, Liz's point of view.

I get out my car, noticing how the short drive from my work to the hospital has strained my eyes. All I want is a quiet evening in my apartment just catching up on some reruns of Another World and chatting with some fellow lesbians about living these days on my computer. Of course, I can't have a quiet evening at home by myself, I roll my eyes. Oh, no...that would be too normal for somebody working at the McNamara and Troy surgery. As an anaesthesiologist at a practice with scheduled surgeries, I would pretty much have a nine to five job. But no, Sean has asked me again to do something for him that has nothing to do with anaesthesiology, it isn't even medical. However grudgingly, I usually do what he asks me to do, firstly, because he pays me a heck of a lot lately, but also because in our years together I've grown to like him. Hell, I even like Christian at some level. No matter how much I deceive myself with my occasionally existent partners, they are the closest I can call family. Quite sad, actually, my workmates are my family. So I took the practice's overdue commercial lease renewal and extension to Christian to sign. Sean is too busy with fitting all the operations in his time, as Christian is off work. God knows why. He doesn't take holidays like normal people. When he's off, it's either because he can't make it to work for being literally tied to his bed, or because he's been shot with a dozen botox injections all over his body by some mob leader.

He text me to meet him at the hospital, at that first class bitch Gina's room. I dunno know why and I don't care. Probably it suits him to kill two things with the same shot and then he can be off the Atlantic with his new boat. Like all hospitals, this one is also spotless and tidy, but hectic, gloomy and disheartening at the same time. I hate hospitals. That is why I work at a place where I don't meet human suffering face to face every day. I rush on the corridors, I should be used to this, but the quicker I get out of here, the better. When I arrive to the quite large and bright room, I halt by the door. The monitors are on stand by, only and iv is attached to Gina's arm. She appears to be sleeping, her head lying on Christian's arm, who's on the narrow bed next to her, staring into space. As I enter to attract his attention, Gina shots awake. I notice how painfully unnatural she looks.

"I'll be right back," he smiles at her and eases her down on the pillow. She nestles in, ostensibly uneasy.

Christian follows me out and shots the door behind himself, leaning onto it.

"How is she?" I ask and I know instantly that I shouldn't have.

He looks at me with the some hurt mirroring in his green eyes, an unfamiliar expression on his face. Wordlessly effective nonetheless. He holds my gaze for a long moment, "she's dying."

"What? She's only been diagnosed."

"Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia," he whispers and walks over to the window on the corridor, leans on the window ledge with his elbows and buries his face into his palms. He's shaking.

"I'm sorry," I say, knowing that it won't change a thing. Not even help him in any way. I need him to sign that damn thing. I open the folder and slide the document across the window ledge till it reaches him, "Christian…"

He sighs, I know that he's having difficulties controlling himself and when he looks up I have the proof that he's been crying. With shaking hands he takes the pen from me, scribbles, that gives everything back to me. Down at the bottom of the document, eligibly as if a child would've wrote it, it stands, Christian Maximilian Summerheyes."

"What is this?" I show it to him astounded.

"Sorry…that…that was my name before…"he stammers, "I don't suppose you have another copy…"

"I'll come back tomorrow with another copy," I sigh. I don't wanna scold him right now.

"You won't."

"I'll be here tomorrow," I repeat.

"Liz, I'll be at work tomorrow," he says in a way that leaves no doubt in my mind what that means.

Wiping away his tears, he takes a deep breath and opens Gina's door. He rubs his face with his hands, as to make sure the miserable expression disappears and enters. I don't know why he does this. He doesn't have to do. Nobody expects it and that woman is really not worth it. If some close friend of mine was dying, I couldn't do what he does.

Maybe, just maybe he's not the man I know.

The End.


End file.
